Vignette Collection
by Danielle Anderson
Summary: “He tries not to think of how odd it is that an old man is shopping for underwear for a grown woman.” RaitoxL genderswitch


A/N: Just a bunch of vignettes I wrote in almost two hours. Enjoy :).  
Pairing: Raito/L  
Rating: mild M  
Warning: genderswitch

Raito has always maintained a policy of live-and-let-live (except during his Kira days, when he made it a point to smite down evildoers for a righteous cause). These days, he is calmer and more liberal (not really) in his dealings with miscreants and when he finds things that he disapproves of, he simply turns away; nothing is a crime unless there is harm, each to their own, etc.

L's choice in underwear, however, is something that intrigues him and gets under his nerves at the same time.

He notices that she wears boxers of pastel shades, sent by Watari from England, with the image of a cute little cat on the hip. He tries not to think of how odd it is that an old man is shopping for underwear for a grown woman.

But when she parades around in those boxers and a tank top, (deceptively) unconscious of the effect on him, he shrugs and lets it pass because all eccentricities have their upsides.

* * *

Advertising is a legal way to lie. 

That, and the legal profession.

L's mouth hangs open, thumb pushed to the corner, eyes wide at the TV. She is crouching on the sofa beside Raito, who is quietly reading the papers.

On screen, a woman ties her hair around an bumper and pulls it off.

She is awed. "I want to know what kind of shampoo does that."

Raito sees the ad and drily looks at her crow's nest of ebony hair. "I don't think there's any shampoo on earth that could do that," he remarks.

She ignores him.

The next ad is of diamonds. Some brand that he doesn't pay attention to but he still reads the catchy _A diamond is forever_.

L's lips quirk in amusement. "Whoever thinks that should meet _us_," she states with a glance at him.

Raito has to agree. On their wedding, he never gave her a diamond ring (he couldn't afford one), but seven years later, they are still happy as ever, minus precious stones and metals.

* * *

Raito is a possessive lover. 

L knows that and tolerates him, tolerates his probing kisses and ardent caresses, yields (but not without a fight) to his whims as she lies back on the mattress and lets him take control of her whiteness, his being warm against hers.

On the outside, it seems that he is the one pulling all the strings, the _man_ in the relationship, but between the two of them lies a different truth: she is the mistress of his heart, his passion, and his _raison-d'être_, and without her, he is blindly fumbling in the dark, looking for a way out.

(And he has the same effect on her.)

Later, when they are lying in the dark, sated in each other's arms, L ponders over the possession they hold over each other.

He is Kira, sought by L, now her prize, and _she_ is Kira's Bride, on paper, in reality.

And she finds that she doesn't mind at all because they are each other's trophies.

* * *

"But you shouldn't bother with work today." 

L is in bed, covered by a sheet, bed still crumpled from their morning tryst.

Raito's brown hair is damp from a shower and he opens his closet to select a matching tie with his pastel green shirt (something else sent by Watari at L's insistence - what is it with her and pastel shades?).

"Unlike you," he says to her coolly, "I have a real job."

She is eyeing him - _leering_, actually - thumb sliding across her upper lip. He thinks she'll pout, but she doesn't, and keeps leering. It's pretty creepy, actually.

"I have a job," she protests in a monotonous drawl, challenging him to argue against that.

Which he gladly does, because Raito has never been one to back down from a challenge.

"With _normal_ working hours," he points out, glancing at her in the mirror as he ties the knot."Sitting in a dark room and staring at computer hardly counts a real job in my eyes. You need to get some fresh air, L. Like normal people."

The insults bounces off her like a tennis ball. "I'd rather spend more time with you," she pats the space beside her.

Raito raises an eyebrow. Then he says, "You're so lecherous."

"Rightly so," she says smugly before pulling him down for a kiss. He gives in, melts in her arms for just an instant before he draws back and looks into her eyes.

"I can't be late for work again," he says to her, his voice low and desperate.

She understand and releases him reluctantly, pouting.

"I'll make it up to you tonight," he gives her a gentle smile at the door. "I promise."

Her gaunt face lights up with a smi - _leer_. "I'll be waiting."

He tries not to notice how creepy she looks when she's leering. She should smile more often.

* * *

L makes breakfast every morning. 

Raito is used to coming out of the shower and finding her in the kitchen, face calm, eyes wide, her slender hands moving quickly, surely to boil the water, pour in tea leaves, put in two spoons of sugar in his, five in hers. She handles the kettle like she does everything else, with a thumb and index finger, like the handle is swarming with germs. He expects the kettle to crash to the floor with a clang at any moment, a sharp dent on the metal side, a pool of boiling water.

But L is clever and graceful as ever, in her own way, and never once does she mishandle anything. Hence, when he sits at the table, his tea never fails to be in front of him, nice and steaming, and his wife never fails to be beside him, face pensive and detached.

And he thinks that this is something that he'll never grow bored of this, even when they are both old, hair gray, fake teethed and surrounded by grandchildren, will never grow bored of the thrill of her black eyes meeting his brown ones across the table and the smile in her touch.

He hides a smile of his own as he sips his tea, burning his tongue in his absentmindedness.

* * *

L is a light sleeper, plagued with nightmares and bad thoughts (why else does she stay up so late?). Her dreams are often of her mother lying in a messy bed, face bruised, body battered, killed by an unknown assailant. And then, there are images of her in the back of a truck, scared and imprisoned with a bunch of nameless (and sometimes faceless) men grinning evilly. She is too young to understand clearly what they want but sometimes, in fleeting moments of clarity, she knows. 

She has never confided in her husband about this. When they lie next to each other, Raito holds her in his arms, stroking the thick inky locks away from her pale face, looking into her eyes. And he seems to be wondering, _Who are you? Where did you come from?_

She hears those unspoken questions and wishes that she could answer. So much to tell but L, the genius, is confused about where to start.

So, instead, she burrows in his embrace and puts her head on his chest, comforted by the certain _thump thump_ of his heart, and presses a silent reassurance -

_You're the only one who's ever touched me._

And in his arms, she feels safe and sound because it's the one place where her nightmares can't torment her.

* * *

It's almost hateful to go to Wammy's House every year, L thinks, especially when she can't take Raito with her. 

The grounds where she spent five years of her life brings back a flood of memories, of rejected love and enjoyable games of tag and hours of reading. It is something that she longs to share with Raito, along with her past (did she come into existence only when Watari rescued her? No: she became real when Kira found her and claimed her).

But the stupid NPA won't give Raito a much-deserved break (he's been working too hard lately, not to mention) and L suspects that Chief Yagami is doing this to him on purpose. So much for honor and nobility and _love conquers all_.

So she lies in the white neatness of her quarters (she could do with domestic help back home) and listens to the laughter of children outside, and hopes that someday, she and Raito will have a brood of their own.


End file.
